


A Team Divided

by CoolPepCat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoolPepCat/pseuds/CoolPepCat
Summary: Overwatch has suffered a detrimental falling out- splitting into two volatile teams. In an attempt to get a number advantage, the COBALT sector have recruited you, for better or for worse. After months of training, you're finally trusted on your first mission- Alone.Disgusting self indulgent fanfic, sorry, sorry.Primarily Reader/Reaper, Genji, and McCree but there might be more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reader is referred to as male, though no genitalia is explicitly mentioned.
> 
> The Overwatch cast is split into two sections, as follows.
> 
> COBALT - Phara, Soldier 76, Tracer, Hanzo, Mei, D.va, Orisa, Winston, Lucio, Mercy, Symmetra, Zenyatta.
> 
> CADMIUM - Doomfist, Genji, McCree, Reaper, Sombra, Bastion, Junkrat, Widowmaker, Reinhardt, Roadhog, Zarya, Ana, Moira.
> 
> The first chapter is MOSTLY exposition, the sin starts in chapter 2.

Humanity was truly at a new low. You had been recruited to Overwatch; what was left of it, anyways. Something had divided the infamous team into two different sections. An argument, probably. The two sides were filled respectively with...relatively like-minded people. So, more specifically, you were recruited by COBALT. You’d always had dreams of growing up a hero, but now you weren’t so sure anymore. The former colleagues were now seething enemies with conflicting goals.

You’d been trained by the famous Soldier: 76 to not die. You were getting pretty good at it too, and when you weren’t, Mercy was always by your side. Lucio was there on occasion too, not often. For once you felt like you had the support that you’d always wanted. Unfortunately, you weren’t that good a shot. When a bullet wouldn’t do, a spikey bat would. Either way, you were primarily trained to be a stealth asset, so carrying around a loud-ass gun probably wasn’t a good idea. The first thing you were trained to do was essentially to lose your identity. To add insult to injury, you weren’t even allowed to pick your code name; Vax. It wasn’t your first choice, but it certainly wasn’t bad.

Was it easy? No. You still vividly remember that night in Russia; while everyone was busy fighting and saving people, you were curled up in a bunker sobbing your eyes out. Zenyatta came in, pat you on the back, and called you by your real name. That felt good, it gave you the strength to keep going.

Over the months, you’d gained a new air of confidence. Over and over, you’d imagined the scenario in your head possibly thousands of times. You were alone in an alley; cold, damp, silent. Crouching against a brick wall, you clutched the fabric of your shirt tight- your heart pounded. All of a sudden they were on top of you.

But with a well placed swing and stab- they weren’t. It was so vivid in your brain, that you barely noticed that you’d accidentally smashed a training dummy into pieces. Your grin faded as you watched the pile of sparking metal crumble apart.

“...Aw…” you whimpered, “I’m gonna have to clean that up, aren’t I?”

Loud footsteps echoed behind you, “No,” it was Soldier. He stepped in, taking admiration at the work you made of that poor training bot, “You won’t have the time tonight.”

You tapped the bat on the ground, groaning up to the ceiling with the force of 1,000,000 suns, “Another training mission? No offence 76, sir, but we’ve done seven of those in the past three days!”

76 gave a chuckle that almost turned into a complete guffaw, “Heh, after tonight, you might wish it was just a training mission.”

Ignoring his ominous tone, you began almost dancing in place, “You mean? You mean you mean you mean?!”

“Heh, yes I mean, kid. I’m sending you out on your first official mission,” his face fell a little, “...Alone.”

Your excitement quickly began dithering into confusion, and then panic. Alone?

“Like, alone without Mercy or Lucio or Zenyatta or you or-”

“Alone as in alone, kid,” he walked to you and pat you on the back, “Listen, it’s a very dire situation, and all of our healers are out with Winston and Tracer.”

“There’s no one else? Like, no one?”

Soldier sighed and rubbed his temples, “No, Vax, there’s no one else but you. Trust me, I’d have liked to train you for at least seven more months before trusting you on your own, but you have to!”

You hugged yourself and gripped your arms. Soldier shook his head and turned, staring to the door, “Your mission is in King’s Row, I’ll have Hanzo debrief you on the ride there.”

“Oh, so someone can be there with me on the ride there, but not stay with me to make sure I won’t die?”

“Keep your tone down, kid,” his voice lowered, making your skin crawl, “This is a fairly low risk mission, you won’t die.”

You won’t die. You won’t die. You won’t die. You kept those words in your head, and Soldier was gone. You won’t die, you won’t die, you won’t die.

You just kind of stood there for the next two hours, staring at a wall and coming to terms with your imminent death. It seemed like only minutes before the doors hissed open again. Softer, more calculated steps trailed in, stopping behind you. A gentle hand grasped your shoulder, and turned you.

“Vax…” Hanzo sighed, averting his gaze, “...It’s nearly time to go.”

Silence enveloped the two of you, and you tried your hardest not to cry. He was a lot more empathetic than soldier, who you could only imagine had been jaded beyond the point of much compassion. Hanzo was younger, and understood your position a little bit better. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Listen, I know it’s scary, going off on your own for the first time, but I promise you’ll be alright,” he spoke with a low, comforting voice. You sniffled a little and he squeezed your shoulder, “I’ll be with you as far as you can go, and believe me we’ll be worrying about you.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. Hanzo gave you one last pat before leading you outside.

“Hey look,” you joked, “a dark and stormy night, I thought those only happened in stories.”

Hanzo gave a gruff chortle and led you to a van, “Alright, so here is how this is going to play out. There is a package lost in transit that we- you need to retrieve. It is in downtown King’s Row, inside of a tavern. The package is pretty large, leather briefcase,” he paused for a brief moment before handing you your bat, “I think you will need this. The case is in the upper right bedroom in a drawer.”

“Do you have my knife too?” you asked, glancing around the van. Hanzo knocked on the divider between you and the driver, signaling them to start driving. He then looked towards you again and handed you your large bowie knife. You twisted it in your hands skillfully.

Hanzo sat in a scuffed leather seat and looked outside, “To King’s Row is about a twenty minute drive, use that time to calm your nerves a little,” he advised.

You sat on the other side of the van, twiddling the knife in your hands. Briefcase, tavern, left side, no, right side. Everything was blurring together and it hurt. Your head hurt, you wanted your bed.

The van screeched to a halt at the side of the road. You froze, terrified. You could feel Hanzo’s gaze pierce into you. You knew you had to go.

“I don’t know if I can...I don’t know if I’m ready…” you mumbled.

“It is my understanding that you really are not ready. But unfortunately, it has come to this. I believe in you.”

With that, he opened the door and eased you out. You were shaking in your boots. Literally. The van sped up again, leaving you in the streets.

You clung to your bat and began walking. With every light flicker, your pace quickened.

Why was no one on the streets? Why was everyone gone? This was absolutely harrowing.

_ Clang.  _ You jumped away, turning your head. A cat had flipped the lid off of a trash can and was digging around in it, searching for something to eat. Sighing, you took a moment to pause and compose yourself.

“This isn’t so bad…” you told yourself, trying to convince yourself of that. The streets weren’t ghostly empty, they were calm, serene. People weren’t gone, they were sleeping.

I strolled up to the millionth tavern in this god forsaken city, stepping inside. The bartender looked up and greeted me with a smile.

“Um, hello there! We’re actually closed, uh…” you noticed that he probably saw the giant bat on your back.

“Oh, sorry!” you chuckled, “Um, I forgot something in the...upper...right room?”

After mulling it over for a moment, the bartender gave you a dismissive wave of his hand, “Alright kid, I don’t see why not. Be quick, though, I’m supposed to be closing up in a few minutes.”

You nodded your head and rushed upstairs, sliding to the upper right room. Locked, great. You thought about asking the bartender for the key, but not wanting to be a burden, you took it upon yourself. Using your trusty knife and a wood splinter, you began picking the lock. It was fidgety, the lock was obviously not used much, and was seriously rusty. Flakes of decomposed metal tumbled out of the keyhole as you worked.

Finally! The lock acquiesced with a satisfying click, and you couldn’t help but smile. You were doing well. You slipped your knife back into its hilt before opening the door, shutting it behind you.

The room lit up with a spark as you flipped the switch. Now to find that briefcase. You began searching the room, taking a bit longer than was probably safe. It wasn’t in the drawer you thought it would be in, so you were forced to search elsewhere. The more time you took, the more anxiety crept up to you. Maybe the mission was sabotaged? Maybe they knew?

You’d nearly torn up the entire room before you found it under the bed. You felt a little silly, it was a pretty obvious place to hide it. You gripped the case and nearly whooped in celebration, before remembering what a mess you made. You took another five minutes to clean up your tornado-esq search.

Creeping out of the room, the tavern was now completely dark, eliciting a groan from your lips. Carefully, you slunk down the stairs, acting like a cornered animal the entire time. You felt like if there  _ was  _ anyone in here, they would have probably heard the beating of your heart.

You checked that the coast was clear, and when you assumed it was, you went to open the door. ...Locked? You. Are. Infuriated. Who locks a tavern from the inside? That’s probably a fire hazard. You would have written a strongly worded note if you weren’t in the pitch black and also terrified.

Your patience was ticking away. Not wanting to pick the lock again, you pulled out your master key...and smashed the window.

Taking a leap, you attempted to avoid the chunks of shattered glass that lined the windows. Attempted was the keyword, you failed miserably and slashed your leg open. To your surprise, you managed to keep your cool and not scream bloody murder. Hissing, you wrapped your arm around the warm, seeping wound. You had to get out of here.

You decided you had to hobble...somewhere. Apparently your superiors didn’t give you a getaway plan. Were you supposed to walk back? You couldn’t, not with your geniusly self inflicted injury.

Clinging to the briefcase, you scuttled off in the direction you came from. If there was one thing you hated, it was the feeling of a bead of blood slowly trickling along your skin. You made a quick decision to duck into an alleyway and wait the bleeding out.

You slumped against the wall and panted, holding your hand against the gash. 

_ Fuck, it hurts so bad! I’m going to die of bad decision making!  _ You thought to yourself. Suddenly, the world began to slow down. Over and over, you’d imagined the scenario in your head possibly thousands of times. You were alone in an alley; cold, damp, silent. Crouching against a brick wall, you clutched the fabric of your shirt tight- your heart pounded. All of a sudden they were on top of you.

But you couldn’t fight them off. Hands gripped at your neck and held your limbs down. Searing pain ripped through your flesh as someone forced their hand into the still open wound. You tried to scream, but the person shoved their still messy hand over your mouth, forcing you to taste your own blood. They began to talk.

“He’s getting too panicked,” said one, a woman. You tried to make eye contact with the one speaking, but your vision was blocked by someone wearing a large vest. The person on top of you responded with an agreeable grunt, “Give him this,” the woman continued.

A bit of pain, against your neck...you watched with horror as the person’s hand pulled an empty needle away from your skin, tossing it to the side. You tried to savor your last moments of consciousness as the conversations blurred together.

As you faded, the words repeated in your head over and over.

You won’t die. You won’t die. You won’t die. You won’t die. You won’t die. You won’t die. 

_ You won’t die. _


	2. ASSassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, you're certainly not at home anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cripes I just noticed all of the hits this fic got so far, I'm new to writing fanfic so I hope that's good.
> 
> ~THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NASTY GROSS VIOLENCE STUFF LIKE GORE AND NONCON, IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT KIND OF THING PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS THANK YOU~

You didn’t die. You were made painfully aware of that fact as the excruciating pain pulsed in your lower calf. To your surprise, it was cleanly bandaged up. At that, your pants were also nowhere to be seen. Fantastic. You were wearing a plain white T shirt, underwear, and...not much else. Calmness set in as you took in your surroundings; soft bed, cozy bunker, bottle of water on the nightstand. You wonder who it was that saved you? Soldier? Hanzo?

The names swam in your head for a bit as you reached for the water. Taking a swig, you swung your legs over the edge of the cot. Cautious, you tested the waters of your injured leg. You gently put weight on it, wincing desperately.

“Ow ow ow ow…!” you whimpered, sitting back down on the bed. Almost as if on cue, the doors began to slide open. In stepped...a woman. A woman you’d never seen before. She had bright orange hair, and a gaunt frame that made you cringe. She raised a hand, showing off her long, intimidating nails. You held your breath, she was clearly enjoying this.

“Hello,” she began, tracing her nails over your figure, “Oh, so tense. I’d be careful if I were you, that’s a nasty gash you got on your leg.”

You nodded. Yeah, obviously it was a pretty bad gash. You looked away, not being able to help it. The calmness turned into dread, and you began to panic. This wasn’t the COBALT base, this was different, this was bad. Every touch that this woman gave you felt like it took several minutes off of your life.

“Well, you’re not in any immediate danger of dying,” she said, holding your leg a little less than gingerly. You put on your brave face and pointed your nose upwards.

“W..where am I?” you said- a little less than confidently. The woman looked up at you once more, scanning you. She rolled her shoulder languidly and hardened her grip on your calf, you began to feel woozy.

“Nowhere of consequence,” she murmured. Her breath hitched, and you felt yourself shaking. Her lips curled, “You have so much vigor…”

Then she let go, and she was gone. You were alone, panting, crying. Time would speed up and slow down, everything hurt. Eventually your head hurt too much to think, you rolled over and pressed the pillow provided to you against your ears. Sleep wouldn’t take you. Insomnia was no stranger, but it couldn’t have chosen a worse time to strike. Eyelids fluttered, pictures of your friends sparked in your mind. The door opened. The door closed. You were alone.

Soldier was there, he smiled and pat you on the shoulder, calling you brave. He took the briefcase and held it up. You were home again, clinging desperately to your loved ones. They were proud.

You were alone. The door opened, and so did your eyes. You weren’t alone. Heavy boots stomped towards your bed, but you wouldn’t look over. You were sleeping. You were asleep. The person smelled familiar, not bad, but foreboding. The scent sept into your head and festered. Your heart beat faster, he knew. He knew.

“Moira treated you well, I’m guessing,” the voice grunted. Your entire body fell still, he laughed. It dug into your brain, “Turn around, and face me.”

You hoped he was bluffing. He wasn’t. In a swift motion, he dug his hand into your shoulder and forced you to turn over, making you yelp. Reflexively, you scrambled to your feet, standing on your bed. Knees buckling, you stared him in the face. He snarled and slammed you back down so you were sitting. You could feel the wound on your leg start to strain.

He was someone like you’d never seen before. Though you were piss pants scared, you couldn’t help but regard him with curiosity. His mask...reminded you of a barn owl. He must have noticed you staring, and began to get a little impatient.

“Where am I?” you forced out. He didn’t respond. You thought that maybe he hadn’t heard you, and opened your mouth to repeat yourself, but he shut you down pretty quick.

“Do not ask me questions. I am here to deal with you.”

“Deal with me? What do you mean?”

He failed to respond once more. You realized that keeping your mouth shut was probably a safe play here. The man cracked his neck and stood, oddly fluid, “Follow me. If you run, you die, and then you go to Moira.”

Moira must have been the woman that came in earlier; you didn’t want to be going back to her. You weren’t sure what she did with you, but one thing was for sure, she certainly sucked the life out of you. Snapping out of your thoughts, you stepped up to follow the man who came in. He was covered head to toe in a thick black robe, you couldn’t tell at all what he looked like.

He started walking, and you followed after. The halls were dimly lit, lights flickered relentlessly. It was certainly a step down from COBALT. Stepping by a window, you took a peek outside- it was night again, and you couldn’t tell where you were. Part of you wanted to take a chance and go for it.

Staying in the same spot for too long induced a sharp pain in your wrist as the man grabbed you, cutting off circulation and dragging you along. He was quiet, it was terrifying. He led you into a large room, illuminated with a dull violet light. The glow reflected off of the man’s mask, making him look ever so slightly less threatening.

He let you go, leaving you to rub your sore wrists and look around. The man stared at you, and wouldn’t stop. Not knowing what to say, you just looked to the ground and waited for his next move.

“I’m gonna cut the shit here. We got the briefcase from you, but there’s a digital lock on it. We need you to open it, and we might let you go alive,” he demanded, pulling the case out of god knows where and tossing it on a sturdy table in the middle of the room. You flinch at the thudding sound it made when it hit the steel.

In a pretty stupid decision, you crossed your arms, “I’m not saying anything until I get told what’s going on here- and who you are.”

He remained stagnant. You couldn’t tell if he was seething or contemplating, “Fine. You’re in the Cadmium base. All you need to know is that my name is Reaper, or has Overwatch disbanded for so long that everyone already forgot me?”

You never really paid attention to Overwatch until you joined Cobalt- though you were now regretting not doing research.

“Now, tell me how to open this.”

Your palms began to sweat and you step up to the case. It’s something like you’d never seen before. Reaper was standing over your shoulder, watching your every move. You could swear he was breathing down your neck, but it didn’t feel warm. The hair stood up on the back of your neck, it was freezing. You shuddered, shaking off the chills and trying to focus on..whatever you were doing.

“Uh…” you stammered, fiddling with your hands.

“What’s the problem?” he queried, you quivered.

“I...I haven’t ever seen this...I…” your eyes traveled around the screen, “I don’t know how to open it…”

Reaper sighed, you felt him lean over you to look at the lock. His deadpan disposition made it unsure of his temper. Knees buckling, you just watched him, your eyes following his gloved hand.

“I can’t believe we kidnapped a useless piece of…” he looked down at you, pausing. You had a feeling he didn’t stop out of concern for your feelings, “Hmph, well, we can use you for ransom anyways.”

In a moment of panic, you yelped and ran off in the other direction, or you would have if Reaper hadn’t had dug his gauntlet into your shoulder. You swore he hooked the claws around your bones as he pulled you back. You thrashed, cried, screamed. He said nothing, just holding you still.

He enveloped you, making struggling useless, but you tried anyways. You could feel the flesh ripping out of your shoulder. Why wasn’t he talking, why wasn’t he talking, why wasn’t he talking?

You figured out why he wasn’t talking. In your compulsive struggling, you had been unintentionally moving against his crotch. Filled to the brink with fear, you stared up at him. His breath was deep, and his grip on your shoulder tightened. 

And just like that he pushed you over the table, letting out a sound that was akin to a snarl. Everything was making you dizzy, especially seeing your blood pool neatly on the stainless steel.

He grabbed you roughly and just pressed against you, making you cry out, “No no no no stop stop!” you tried to push away from the table, but that just made it worse. His refusal to speak up made it even worse- no matter how much you writhed in his grip, he barely made a noise. You could definitely feel him pressing up against you- in that way. It was a degree of closeness that was very unfamiliar to you, his hand digging into your shoulder while his other arm wrapped around your abdomen to keep you in place.

Fearful, you just laid your head down on the table, staring at the blood, crying. Everything was bad, you wish you had died. You went basically limp as he slid down your underwear, leaving no room for preparation. He nestled his face into your neck, making the mask dig deep into the skin, puncturing.

That awful dripping feeling came back, touching your skin like warm water, just barely moving down. He reached his arms down and grabbed at your hips, pushing into you even more. It hurt, you were hurting. You shut down, reduced to a pile of sniffling mush. The only emotion he showed was anger mixed with desperation; you had been the closest thing to him that he didn’t care about breaking.

Reaper went in dry, causing you to squeal loudly. By this point you knew that he wasn’t just being impatient- he was enjoying this to an almost disturbing degree. Given that you worked primarily with a bat, you should be strong, you should be able to take this guy. But you couldn’t. You weren’t good enough.

All you could do at that point was sob relentlessly, hoping that some amount of pity would reach the aggressive assassin. If anything, though, you made it worse. He clung tighter and rammed into you, growling. 

White hot pain blurred your vision, and for a brief beat you were in a different world. Your head spun, time seemed to slow down. You could hear your heartbeat, thumping strong. You couldn’t focus your eyes on anything, not that it mattered, there was nothing to look at. For just a moment, all of the pain faded away, and it felt soft, gentle, content.

And then you came back to reality. Reaper was pulling himself off of you, letting you fall limp to the floor. It was obviously some time later- you had blacked out. Looking up at him, all you could think to do was let out a soft, pathetic whine. He stared back, but you couldn’t gauge his intent at that point. He grabbed your hand and began dragging you across the room. Your eyes fell down on a blood trail that you were making as he moved.

As he took you back through the halls again, you took another look at the window you’d passed before. Everything out there seemed so dead, cold, and fake. You wanted to be out there so bad, but you couldn’t use any of your muscles.

He brought you back to your tiny room, dropping you harshly onto the uncomfortable cot. Reaper cast one last glance your way, probably to make sure you weren’t going to run. If you could move your legs, you probably would have. He shut off the light and shut the door, probably implying that you should go to sleep.

You were tired- in fact, you were exhausted- but you didn’t know if you could sleep. You decided to face the facts, you were kidnapped. You were hurt. You were violated. 

And at that moment, perhaps from the emotional detachment, you didn’t feel anything. You weren’t upset, you weren’t anything.

“He didn’t know how to open it,” Reaper explained to someone outside of the room. You heard, but didn’t really listen. You were so tired.

“Want me to kill ‘im, then?” someone else spoke- someone new. You were so tired, you didn’t care.

“No,” Reaper replied, “I think I have another idea.”

You were so tired.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I hate myself too.


End file.
